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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251245">return to us, o fallen one</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boa_bec/pseuds/boa_bec'>boa_bec</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alastor Is A Fallen Angel (Hazbin Hotel), Blood and Gore, Genocide, Hell, Murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:20:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boa_bec/pseuds/boa_bec</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>sin colors your wings black. your blood is tainted.</p><p>(perhaps you were never holy to begin with.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>return to us, o fallen one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>credit to my amazing friends on discord for this God Tier idea ✨😌✨</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alastor. Although they were arguably the most feared demon in the underworld, few knew the name, calling them simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>that thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> - or, formally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Radio Demon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Yet, long ago…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alastor. Reaper of Karma.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alastor was the captain of Heaven’s Exterminator army, in charge of training and overseeing the soldiers. God and his children drilled it into everyone’s mind that humans, sinners, and demons alike were </span>
  <em>
    <span>evil.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No redeeming qualities, no chance of being saved. And if they couldn’t be saved…the only solution was to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill them off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was justice, in Alastor’s eyes. What they deserved. They were all filthy murderers, perverts, thieves, abusers, and monsters; they could never hope to be pure. Harming those who had harmed others filled Alastor with glee. Sadistic? Perhaps. But no one would convince him he wasn’t in the right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was fun - at least at first. Watching them scramble like headless chickens as Alastor and his army descended from the Heavens, tracking them down and plunging his blade into their bodies, ripping out their innards and reducing them to a bloody smear while the beautiful screams rang in his ears. And the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>…it sent a delightful shiver down his spine. What fun!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a long while…it started to get boring. Behead one demon, you’ve beheaded them all. And that boredom, that awful, all-encompassing emptiness that never went away, was what drove Alastor to turn his blade against a fellow angel. The sight of holy blood on his hands and the taste of it in his mouth…it made Alastor’s heart race. It was exhilarating. That was the beginning of an addiction - to the feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>power.</span>
  </em>
  <span></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alastor killed them all. Choirs, armies, cities, he slaughtered every last one of them. He shattered their halos and ripped out their wings, destroying archangels and claiming their power for himself. And while he was decimating the very place he had grown to love…Alastor found it wasn’t about morality, not anymore. Hell, maybe it never had been. Perhaps “doing what’s right” had only ever been a lie, a flimsy excuse he had used to feel better about doing what he did. Or perhaps not! Boredom drove you to do awful things, after all. Alastor didn’t know, in all honesty; all he knew was the need for power to satiate his boredom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon, no one could stop him. He tore apart everything in his way, leaving blood, gore, and destruction in his wake. Then…he reached the end. When no one could put a stop to his murderous rampage, the only one who could end things was God himself. Alastor was stripped of his wings and halo, and down he fell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The year was 1933 when sinners saw Alastor fall from the sky. Armed with an old 20s radio he found among The Wastes and incomprehensible eldritch power, Alastor terrorized the land of the dead. Death and destruction everywhere you looked; the entirety of Pentagram City up in flames. All for his own entertainment, he spread chaos and fear wherever he went and broadcasted it on his radio for all Hell to hear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But nothing is permanent, is it? Even what Alastor loved most - blowing sinners to smithereens - began to grow dull. That boredom, constant and impermeable, returned. As demons began to whisper about how they were safe from the Radio Demon, not even Alastor’s monthly massacres were enough to restore his zest for (after)life. It was…</span>
  <em>
    <span>boring.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So terribly boring. His afterlife was boredom and boredom alone…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…Until that fateful day…</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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